


The Difference Between the Two of Us

by Delta_Meow



Category: Starlight Express - Phillips/Stilgoe/Webber
Genre: Angst, But also, HIGHLY possible sexual content, Humor, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, also possible some electra/components, based on the old version of StEx but characters are from the new Bochum production, but it will get better, did I mention the angst?, electra is wrecked, greaseball tries his best to save him, hate to friendship to love, it probably will get heated, not sure how this is gonna end, send help, this could be fun, trains with feelings, virgin electra?, vulnerable electra, while trying not to kill him because electra is insufferable brat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:48:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25385542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delta_Meow/pseuds/Delta_Meow
Summary: Two years after the crash, Greaseball is travelling around the world. He left everything behind – his hometown, his gang, his girl... He was wandering around, away from his past but avoiding the future. He got stuck in the presence and didn't dare to move.However, his health is coming back. The process of his repair is coming to an end and he starts to think about a new life.And this – this is the moment he and Electra meet again, under circumstances Greaseball would never think could be possible.
Relationships: Electra & Components (Starlight Express), Electra/Greaseball (Starlight Express)
Comments: 27
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

“You can get up now.“ 

Greaseball opened his eyes and lifted himself into a sitting position. His gaze landed on the cute repair truck that had now her back turned to him. “Done?”

“Yes, for now,” she responded. She reminded him of Wrench in a way – with her outer plating shining with shades of dark grey and silver, and with a red cross on her helmet. All the repair trucks were usually designed similarly. Difficult to say why he thought of Wrench in particular.

“For now?” he asked and threw his legs over the edge of the berth.

“Yes,” she replied. “There are some minor errors that will be treated during the next appointment. We’re not quite done with you, Mr. Greaseball, but we’re getting there.”

Greaseball rolled his eyes at the idea. At least it was all coming to an end.

“Some spare parts will be needed to finish the repair process,” the repair truck continued, “I’ll send you the list. The problem with your hip-joint has already been fixed, it shouldn’t cause you any difficulties from now on.”

“Thanks Starlight,” Greaseball uttered. Since the crash, his left hip-joint had been shit. It wasn’t exactly preventing him from work – it only was making it harder. But mainly, it was reminding him of the day he lost everything.

“As I said, there are few other minor errors – your cooling system needs to have some of its tubings replaced, and there’s still the cracked collarpiece.”

Greaseball nodded. She has already mentioned this issue the last time he visited her, just a month ago. Similarly to his hip-joint, the collarpiece was another reminder of the crash. Of course, he went to the service immediately afterward to get treated. He was in a rather bad shape. They were able to fix him fairly quickly but upon his release, they also warned him that the repairs were not, in fact, complete. He was supposed to come back. He never did. Instead, he left.

Still, the memory of the crash haunted him. Whenever he was going just a little too fast, it flashed in front of his eyes. He also became quite paranoid when it came to his brakes – he had never really cared about them before but since two years ago, he has been having them checked every three weeks. Just to be sure.

“I’ll send you the list of the spare parts,” the repair truck continued and turned her young, round face to him. She smiled apologetically. “Unfortunately, we do not have any of the parts you need in stock currently. You’ll need to get them on your own.”

“Where?” Greaseball asked. He’s been living in this town for the past two months but had no idea where he should be looking for spare parts. He felt lucky when he managed to find his shed without wandering around for hours.

“I’ll send you the address as well,” she responded kindly. Truly, he couldn’t wish for a better repair truck. He even started to toy with the thought of asking her out but then remembered the last time he was dating and his stomach sunk.

No, he still wasn’t quite ready.

“They should have everything you need. Just say that I’m the one who sent you – they’ll help you.”

“Thanks,” he smiled at her politely as he rolled on to the door. “Is that everything?”

“Yes,” she nodded and waved at him as he was leaving. “Take care.”

Taking care was exactly what he was trying to do the past two years. Since he has left the yard, he was trying to forget everything and just _take care_. After the events of his last race – that eventually turned out to be the end of his career – it was all he could do. Take care of himself because there was no one in his life he could take care of or who would take care of him. Everyone turned their back on him. 

He wasn’t holding it against them. He got what he deserved.

It was easier to start again once he was out of his home town. No one in the outer world knew him. As soon as the legend named Greaseball, the diesel who once won the World Championship, died, no one was interested in him anymore. He was honestly grateful for it. The last thing he needed was attention. All he wanted was to lick his wounds and take care. Repair all the marks the crash left on his body and move on – and then, one day, start again.

Even though he wasn’t as fast as he used to be, he was still quite strong. It wasn’t exactly difficult to find a job – diesel engines might not be the future but instead, they were a quite powerful presence. Without knowing how Greaseball ended up pulling the Night Mail all over the Northern Hemisphere. He never stayed in one place or another too long. Usually, he only got two or three weeks off before continuing to another destination. No one got the chance of getting to know him – and if there was something Greaseball was particularly grateful for, it was this. He needed to be alone, and his new job kept him perfectly on his track.

His shed was cold and empty. Nothing he could call home – a motel, more likely. Simply a place to stay.

He didn’t have a home anymore. He left it all behind once he decided to leave. And there was no comeback.

Once he was comfortably settled on his berth, he looked at the list and the address the repair truck sent to his fax. There weren’t many items listed – just a metal collarpiece, size 8, and three different tubings for his cooling system. Thanks Starlight. Since he wasn’t racing anymore, the cooling system wasn’t much of an issue. He could manage. The Night Mail line was pretty ordinary. Of course, they needed a strong and tireless locomotive that could handle the long journeys but on the other hand, the set wasn’t heavy: just a few ordinary passenger cars. Usually, he wasn’t even tired at the time of his arrival.

But there were a few times when he needed to pull something bigger. It didn’t happen often but from time to time, someone asked him for help. A tree that fell right across the rails, a coach that ended up upside-down after an accident, a set heavy with coal that needed to be unexpectedly departed…

The coach hit him particularly hard. Not that long ago, he was the one upside-down.

Nonetheless, these situations were what caused his cooling system to go crazy. No matter how good and normal he felt most of the days, these were the times that made him question his health. He left his home town only half-repaired, good to go, but not exactly alright. Throughout the last two years, he has been trying to get as much in shape as possible, to repair every single crack that could be tracked to the crash.

And just now, this journey was coming to an end – with these new parts, his new life could begin.

He took off his new plating and set it aside. Throughout the day, it was comfortably heavy on his body, making him feel safe. Without it, he was fragile. His skinsuit was delicate, soft, and elastic, embracing the sensitive surface of his sensors. These worked just as muscles worked for people – stretching around the metal construction that was keeping him upright, making him able to move. Flexible, yet firm.

A touch to the bare sensors was sharp. Not exactly painful, and most of the time, not exactly uncomfortable. While he was dating Dinah, they experimented with it a lot. It could be exciting at times – while they were drunk and playful. However, it could get quite overwhelming so, during the day, Greaseball needed to wear his skinsuit. Moreover, the sensors were prone to damage. It was the part that took the longest time to be repaired and since then, Greaseball was quite protective of it.

Oh, how much he cherished his body, now. How much he cherished his life.

He laid down onto his berth and closed his eyes.

How much he would cherish his loved ones if he had the chance.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know when this fic will be finished or how often I will be adding new chapters but I promise I will try my best! For now, enjoy!

The first thing Greaseball noted was that the warehouse was _huge._

It was somehow a sad place – separated from the rest of the town with a single old road leading to it. Dark and lonely, full of retired engines that were not good enough for work anymore so they put them up for spare parts.

A train cemetery.

And the gatekeeper wasn’t exactly nice, either. “What do you need?”

Greaseball almost jumped at the unexpected sound of his voice. The gatekeeper was absolutely hidden in his gatehouse, almost invisible.

Greaseball wasn’t keen on communicating with humans but once again – a man once constructed a train. He had his place in this world and he respected it. He obediently handed him the list the repair truck gave him. It had her name on it. What was it again…?

“Ah, yes,” the gatekeeper said, looking at the paper and studying it closely. “Well, go ahead.”

Greaseball nodded shortly and slowly continued through the gate.

No matter how huge the warehouse was, inside it was quite easy to orientate. There were four areas marked with letters. Every single stall had its number, as well as the particular positions in the stall. Greaseball’s combination for the cooling fans was A-23-96, right at the edge of the warehouse. It only took him a couple of minutes to get it. However, the list showed him D-75-14 for the collarpiece.

He sighed and looked around. Well, it’s not like he’s in a rush or anything.

Slowly, he made his way through the warehouse with the tubings under his arm. The place was quiet. Tall constructions full of different kinds of spare parts, all colors and sizes, were watching him unwaveringly from their heights. It was depressing to think that all these parts were living trains at some point. He even passed some of the retired engines and coaches. No matter how hard he tried not to stare, his eyes always found their way to them. They were here to provide spare parts, basically waiting for the day they will disappear completely – the day when the last thing they can provide will be taken from them and they will be shut down for good.

It was making him anxious.

Finally, he found the position he was looking for. He grabbed one of the silver parts in the box – a metal collarpiece, size 8. It was heavy in his hand and somehow bigger than he expected. He had wide shoulders but still, it was hard to imagine that this was going to go inside to replace his current collarpiece.

However, he trusted his repair truck. She knew what she was doing.

Suddenly, a weird feeling of being watched washed over him. He tore his gaze from the collarpiece in his hands and looked around, trying to find where is this feeling coming from.

Right at the beginning of the stall, there was a train. Or maybe something that probably used to be a train – there wasn’t much left of him. He was watching Greaseball intensely, his facial expression unreadable, and something in the way his eyes were glowing reminded Greaseball of… _of who?_

They stared at each other for a few seconds. Maybe a minute. For some reason, Greaseball wasn’t able to move, as if he was hypnotized. All he could do was looking at the train, at his thin frame. It seemed so fragile, so vulnerable, so empty.

The eyes, however, were cold and hard. Alive, yet not exactly living. And still, it was the only part of him Greaseball could call _living_ since the rest of the engine’s body seemed limp, weak, and almost dead.

Greaseball opened his mouth – not intentionally, which he realized shortly after. Maybe he should say something…?

But before he could think of some words, the train was gone. He disappeared behind the tall construction and the weak, rattling sound of his engine slowly faded into complete silence.

Greaseball looked at his collarpiece.

_What the hell was that?_

He wasn’t able to stop asking himself the question all the way back to the gate. For some reason, the glowing eyes got stuck in his head.

He stopped and looked over his shoulder.

_Who was it?_

He never made it to the gate. Without knowing why he turned on his wheels and quietly made his way back. He could always say that he just forgot something if asked – a perfectly suitable excuse. Maybe he could say that he got lost. Or…

He stopped right at the place where the train stood before. There was no sight of him now.

Greaseball wasn’t thinking twice. With his engine purring nervously, he headed in the direction the train took before.

Maybe he was just paranoid. Or stupid. Was he even allowed in this part of the warehouse? The stalls weren’t numbered anymore. He already left the ninety-ninth stall of the sector D behind.

Yup, he was probably stupid. He should get out of here…

A train suddenly appeared right in front of him. Well, it wasn’t _a_ train, it was _the_ train. And he didn’t suddenly appear out of nowhere, he slowly emerged out of some side corridor. Right out of the dark.

He stopped when he noticed Greaseball and narrowed his eyes. Now that he was so close Greaseball noted that he was even skinnier than it seemed before. His skinsuit was silver but dull, and the only thing that was left from his outer plating was his codpiece covering his crotch. His shoulders were bony and his legs and arms long and thin.

However, there was some sort of elegance hidden under all of this, just behind the pale skin of the engine’s face. A familiar elegance.

“What you’re doing here?” the engine asked and his voice made Greaseball jump. Yes. He has definitely met this locomotive before.

“Oh.” He looked around nervously, pointing behind his shoulder with his hand. “Is it you? You were staring at me? Just minutes ago in the stall?”

The train was gazing at him. It was almost uncomfortable. “And what?”

“Nothing, just...” Greaseball reminded himself to breathe. Starlight knows why was this making him so anxious. “I have this feeling –“

“Nice to hear that, one would say you cannot feel anything at all.”

He flinched. Blinked a few times. “We’ve met before, right?”

“Would certainly say so,” the engine answered emotionlessly. His voice was soft and surprisingly high – somewhere between masculine and feminine, right in the middle.

“I see,” Greaseball said, almost stupidly so. He was trying to figure out what to say since the train obviously wasn’t pleased to see him. “I know I’ve met you before, just... can’t figure out when and where.”

“I wouldn't bet you would recognize me like that anyway,” the train said. Greaseball stopped himself from agreeing – the last thing he needed was to offend him.

“So?” he asked, ready to be sent away. “Give me a hint or something?”

“Do you need a hint?” The train’s voice gained an almost threatening tone as he came closer to the diesel. His eyes were staring into Greaseball’s intently. „Come on, Greaseball, two years ago?”

He smirked. _„The last race?“_

„Wha–“ It was the smirk. It was the smirk that he recognized. _„Electra?“_

Electra smiled. The smile was forced and exhausted but still managed to contain all the bitter irony the electric train wanted to put into it. „Nice to know you bothered to remember at least my name if nothing else.“

„What are you doing here?“ Greaseball couldn’t help it. He was looking at the former Racer and wasn’t able to believe his eyes. All the shine and sparkles, all the beauty and energy, everything was gone.

Electra’s smile faded away as if he no longer had the strength to keep it plastered on his face. „Why are you asking?“

„What, just…” Greaseball was desperately trying to find a way out of this. His question was so, so stupid. He knew the answer, the reason why Electra was here. He was just not able to understand how.

„What happened?“ he asked quietly. Somehow, the sight of Electra in front of him made him ache from the inside.

„What happened?“ Electra asked disbelievingly. „You’ve been there!“

„The crash?“ Greaseball was trying to catch up. „Oh come on, you didn’t get here two years ago...“

But then he looked at him again. So many things were missing, so many parts.

 _Spare parts._ “Or did you?”

“Of course not...” Electra scoffed – totally in character for now. Greaseball felt relieved until he heard him saying: “But it certainly has been a direct line from that point.”

“Why are you here?“ he pressured on. He couldn’t believe it. Maybe it was a prank or something. It couldn’t be real.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Electra said. “Why are _you_ here?”

Greaseball frowned. “Just... needed a few new parts –“

“And where do you think these parts are coming from?”

His cooling fans drew in some air harshly. So it was real. “You’re not…”

“Oh, yes, baby,” Electra whispered venomously, _“I am.“_

“How?”

“Why are you asking such stupid questions?” Electra turned away from him and slowly made his way down the corridor.

Greaseball followed close behind, not exactly sure why. “Why can’t you just answer them?”

“Do you want to know, huh?” The soft, velvety sound of his voice turned into quiet wheezing. It seemed Electra wasn’t even able to move and talk at the same time. „Because I lost.“

“That’s bullshit,” Greaseball couldn’t prevent himself from saying. Electra looked at him over his bony shoulder.

“Isn’t that what you told me the last time?”

“The last time? We’ve never really... talked...”

Well, they never really talked, indeed. Except for that one time.

“You told me not to worry,” Electra breathed heavily. It was obvious he didn’t want to stop and succumb to his weakness – not in front of Greaseball who got seriously worried at this point. “Everyone loses a race at some point. Tell me, what’s the difference between the two of us?”

“I dunno,” the diesel murmured. He wasn’t thinking about the question, really – Electra’s weak voice was making him anxious and he seriously feared that the electric locomotive was going to collapse.

“I am a Racer.” He finally stopped – in his characteristic drama queen way, throwing his hands in the air and tossing his head. Of course, he wasn’t going to admit his condition, even though Greaseball already knew he wasn’t well. “I’ve been constructed to win, to make money, _to be the future.”_

Greaseball rolled his eyes at this. “Thanks for reminding me again...”

Electra’s expression grew cold.

„Look, this is stupid,” Greaseball said and came closer to him – for some reason he wanted to be sure he was going to be able to catch the other engine in case he starts crumbling down. “It was just a race...”

“You’re not a Racer,” Electra responded. Now he didn’t sound hostile – defeated, more likely. “You are fast, yet not a Racer. You can find some other place in this world, you can just work, move on.”

He shook his head. “I can’t. If I can’t win, I can’t do anything, I have no use.”

Now Greaseball finally started to catch up. “So they...”

“Sold me,” was the plain answer. “Racing was off-limits, I was way too damaged. Moreover, they already came up with a new model by the time I lost the race. It was my time to go.” He wanted to hide the sadness and pain in his eyes by dropping his gaze to the floor but Greaseball noticed it nonetheless. “Had been working for a local post office for a couple of months before they sent me here.”

“Why?”

“Because I wasn’t good enough,” Electra forced through his teeth. “I have never been good enough.”

“How old are you?” Greaseball was staring at the young face. There was still something left of that beauty – plump red lips, long lashes, glowing golden eyes, pale skin. Sharp features, a little dimple in his chin, long curve of his neck…

“Six years,” Electra said. It was almost a whisper.

“You’re so young,” Greaseball shook his head, “there’s no point of you being here to –“

“New models need spare parts as well,” the Racer interrupted him. „For the latest models, it’s always difficult to find ones as there are not many retired engines who can provide them. And don’t get me wrong, my parts are quite expensive, I...“

He was doing it again. Playing it cool, trying to make it seem that he’s alright. His pride was going to be the death of him.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Greaseball stated firmly.

“No, I shouldn’t,” Electra agreed for once and shrugged. “But I am. Because of you.”

The diesel flinched at this.

“You told me it was safe to come back. That it was not a big deal. Guess what?” Electra’s voice was weak the whole time but now it broke. His last words were almost inaudible, just an empty movement of his lips. _“It was.”_

Greaseball didn’t exactly have a heart but he still somehow felt it sank. “Electra...”

“I don’t need your pity.” The electric locomotive turned away from him. Greaseball suspected that it was because his eyes got wet but he couldn’t be sure. “Two weeks from now, a client will come to pick up the operating system. They will shut me down.”

His voice came back to the empty mechanical tone it had at the beginning of their conversation. It was still breathy and heavy, worrying Greaseball to no end, but the diesel didn’t say a word.

There was nothing left for him to say.

“I hope you’re satisfied,” Electra whispered, still not looking at him. Before Greaseball could think of some way to react, he found himself in the dark – alone.


	3. Chapter 3

The golden eyes were following him everywhere. For the past four days, he has been feeling their gaze on him, burning a hole into him, making him uncomfortable and uptight. Electra’s voice was in his head but it wasn’t his usual soft voice he remembered from two years ago – it was the heavy, breathy whisper, the tiring and almost painful effort to speak, the choked wheezing of the engine’s vocal cords trying their best to function.

It was waking him up at night, distracting him during the day. Not because he suddenly realized how easily he could have ended up in the exact same position, even though that definitely played a part.

The thought of Electra being all alone, weak and broken, so close to death…

It was driving him mad.

He was staring at the wall in front of him. It was plain white. For some reason, it made him think of Electra’s delicate throat, long and pale, soft looking.

He remembered the time he was staring at it – two years ago, a few days after the crash. It was the middle of the night. He was still spectacularly fucked up but at least they fixed him enough to move around. He left the yard to clear his head, alone, surrounded by the dark, hidden under the carpet of thousands of shining stars.

None of them was shining for him.

That was when he found Electra – curled up under one of the rocks just behind the yard, sobbing softly, staring at the sky helplessly. The moonlight was somehow making his body seem smaller, his features softer, his skin paler. Greaseball was staring at the curve of his throat the whole time – maybe because Electra was refusing to look at him, hiding his face. His plating was missing and he was badly scraped. One of his arms was almost torn off and he was pressing it to his chest tightly, just to keep it in place.

Greaseball probably should have said something nice to him. However, he was too pissed off for that. He was blaming all his mistakes on everyone else, trying to find an excuse for his selfish behavior instead of taking responsibility for it.

He didn’t feel bad for Electra back then. He was annoyed by him, disgusted by him, angry at him. When Electra voiced his concerns about his future, Greaseball said the first thing that came to his mind, just to make him shut up.

_Just go back home. No one will care. No one cares about the losers, it’s always about the winner. And everyone loses eventually._

Now that he was thinking about it, the words were meant for himself more than for Electra. He was trying to convince himself that what happened was not a big deal. He lost. It was okay – the others will forgive him.

It took him two years to realize that it wasn’t about the loss itself. Two years to realize what a selfish asshole he used to be and how badly he treated the ones he loved. Two years to find out that his insincere, inconsiderate words cost Electra everything. Just because Greaseball somehow managed to give him false hope.

“Mr. Greaseball?”

The voice cut through the track of his thoughts and he blinked, confused. “Huh?”

“Are you alright?” the repair truck asked. There was a soft wrinkle of concern between her brows.

“What?” was Greaseball’s first stupid reaction before he managed to pull himself together. “Yes. Sorry.”

“You seem to be…” The repair truck paused, searching for the right word, _“distracted.”_

“No, I just…” Greaseball drew in a deep breath to cool his systems. For some reason, he felt exposed and it made him uncomfortably warm.

“I’m worried about something and it distracts me a little bit,” he said eventually. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

“I was saying that you could go back to racing.”

It took him a while to process her voice through his brain. “What?”

She smiled at him kindly – and somewhat knowingly. “Listen, I know you were told that your career is over but we’ve performed quite a piece of work on you. At the moment, you are completely healthy, all issues were properly sorted out. With the collarpiece and the cooling system fixed, there’s nothing wrong with you anymore.”

“I can’t go back,” he responded, taken aback. He couldn’t imagine himself going back to his previous life. He wanted to start again, differently. He wanted a new life, not the old one.

“That’s your decision to make, of course,” she said, respectfully. “All I’m saying is that you are physically suitable to continue your racing career.”

“Really?” he asked after a quiet while of staring. She smiled at him.

“Yes.”

He accepted that his career was over a long time ago. How was he supposed to deal with this, now? “I…”

“You don’t have to make this decision today, Mr. Greaseball,” she said soothingly. “It’s not my job to persuade you, I simply felt obligated to inform you about that possibility.”

“Of course,” he acknowledged, nodding. “Thank you.”

She was looking at him, a small smile still playing on her lips. Dinah used to smile at him like that. Sweetly, provocatively…

He pointed to the doors, unsure of what to do. “Can I go, now?”

“Yes.” Her smile grew wider. Was she flirting with him now that he wasn’t officially her patient anymore? “Without having to come back, this time.”

“It’s not that I wouldn’t like to come back…” he replied, trying to flirt back but failing. For some reason, this felt incredibly wrong. “I mean… You were really nice to me…”

“Well, that is a part of my job.” _Was that a smirk?_

Two years ago, he wouldn’t miss an opportunity like this. He would ask her out without thinking twice about it. He would do his thing and probably would never meet her again.

He could do this even now. She probably wasn’t aiming for anything more than a one night stand either. It wouldn’t be a bad thing, people do it all the time.

 _You still can race,_ a voice echoed in his head. _You still can do it, you still can be a champion. There’s still hope._

The repair truck leaned closer. Her big, round eyes were gazing into his, just to drop to his mouth here and there.

Greaseball stared at her.

_There’s still hope…_

He got up to his wheels. He couldn’t ask the repair truck out, no matter how cute and inviting she was. He had something important to do. If he was able to race again, then Electra could be, too.

“Goodbye, Mechan,” he held out his hand politely, savoring her name on his tongue. He finally managed to remember it, right before the end.

She understood quickly. Without holding it against him, she accepted his gesture and let her hand rest in his for a few seconds.

“Goodbye, Greaseball.”


	4. Chapter 4

It took three days to come up with a plan. During these days, Greaseball was observing the warehouse closely, trying to understand how it worked – when was the closing time, what was the security system, where the emergency exits were. It was all coming together in his head.

The key was to realize that once the alarm goes off, the emergency exits will open automatically. As soon as Greaseball knew that, the plan was done.

He waited patiently, hidden in the dark, watching. The last customers and visitors left and the gate closed.

He waited for another ten minutes.

The gatekeeper emerged from the gatehouse, slowly taking the path to the city. He was glued to his phone, smoking a cigarette. He didn’t notice Greaseball at all.

Greaseball waited another hour. Two. Just to be sure. His nervousness was growing with every second but he couldn’t go back now. He needed to get Electra out of here and he was ready to do everything he could to achieve this goal.

No one else was going to save Electra. Greaseball was his last hope. True hope, this time.

Twenty-three minutes after midnight, Greaseball slowly left his place in the dark and quietly made his way to the gatehouse.

There was a lighter in his hand. It wasn’t too hard to get one – people were selling them on every corner. Oil was, naturally, even less of a problem, at least for a diesel locomotive.

It took him only a couple of minutes to prepare everything. His hands were shaking and he was anxiously looking around. A few times, he simply froze – quiet sounds were coming from all around. A bird in the bush nearby, noises from the inside of the warehouse, sounds he wasn’t to identify at all. Every single time, it made his engine go nuts in his chest, jumping almost into his throat, suffocating him.

He didn’t want the fire to spread too much, he only needed it to start the alarm. No one will pay attention to what is going on around if they are currently fighting with fire. No one will notice Electra leaving.

_Starlight, just let this work._

The fire was warm and bright as Greaseball watched it. There was some sort of beauty in it – dangerous, yet fascinating. It was licking at the wooden gatehouse and slowly growing bigger, stronger, hungrier.

That’s when the sharp sound of an alarm went off.

Greaseball moved quickly. He disappeared into the dark long before anyone was able to see him, following a path around the warehouse he had grown to know in the past three days. There was an emergency exit on the side – well, one of them. Greaseball remembered the inside of the warehouse clearly so he knew that this particular exit will get him right into the sector D, as close to Electra as he can get.

He found the door and leaned into it with the weight of his body.

It gave in easily.

 _Okay,_ Greaseball kept on repeating in his head, full of adrenaline as he skated through empty stalls, _now just find Electra and get out._

It was all so easy. Everything went smoothly, even suspiciously so. By the time he passed the ninety-ninth stall of the D sector, he was almost sure something is going to fuck up sooner or later but was trying not to think about it too much. It can all go just smoothly, right?

Once he got to the area where all the engines and coaches were settled for the night, he immediately thought that _Starlight, this place looks like a prison_. There were even actual cells. No wonder Electra seemed to be depressed a bit the other day.

“Electra!” he screamed, ignoring all the widened and scared eyes that were following him. He felt bad for them, all of them, but he was only able to save one. And he already made his choice. “Electra, where are you?!”

The Racer’s face suddenly peeked out from one of the cells. He was sitting on the ground and his eyes were wide and glassy.

 _Oh,_ he suddenly remembered, _the sound of the alarm._ It kept going on and on, loud and high-pitched, and none of these trains knew why.

“Are you crying again?” he asked once he stopped in front of utterly confused and surprised Electra. The electric locomotive winced at this, quickly wiping off his tears.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he hissed, his eyes still wide. “What is happening?”

“Just a fire,” Greaseball said as if nothing was happening and bent over so he could help Electra get up, “let’s go.”

“Wait, just a fire?” Electra echoed with his high voice, peeling the diesel's hands off of him. “Is there even such a thing, _just a fire?!”_

“They have it under control!” Greaseball argued, trying to catch the train’s skinny arms again, “let’s go!”

Nope – the train pushed him away even this time. “Did you start the fire?”

“There’s no time for questions, we need to get out!”

“I’m not going anywhere!”

Starlight, he should have known that even if all is going to go smoothly, Electra will not fail to prove himself a problem.

“What, do you wanna wait for them to shut you down?” he protested, almost angrily at this point. “I came here for you, I’m not leaving without you.”

“You started a fire for me?”

Greaseball nodded. “Yes.”

_“What kind of fucker are you?!”_

“You’re welcome,” he said, bending over once again and this time grabbing Electra under his arms. “Up you get.”

“I can’t leave!” the Racer tried to fight back but it was clear he didn’t have the strength to do so. He was barely able to stand on his wheels now that Greaseball thought about it.

“Why?” he asked but didn’t get a reply this time. “Electra, I don’t want to pressure you but the exit doors are not going to stay open forever, we need to go now.”

“I won’t make it,” Electra whispered. His eyes were once again wide and scared but this time for a completely different reason.

Greaseball managed a small smile. “You are a Racer, aren’t you?”

“I don’t have my engine anymore!” Electra exclaimed brokenly. “It was the first thing they took from me. They replaced it with some shit just to keep me going, I can barely make it to the D sector, and there are other parts missing as well...!”

“I can pull you,” Greaseball offered which only earned him an offended look from the other train.

“Do I look like a fucking coach to you?!”

“I’m trying to save this pretty ass of yours so do yourself a favor and shut up.” Greaseball turned on his wheels, showing Electra his back and his coupler loops. “Grab it.”

“The ass?”

He shot a glare over his shoulder. “Are you done yet?”

Electra mumbled something incoherently but grabbed onto the couplers without protesting further. Once Greaseball was sure the Racer was secured behind him, he shot out of the corridor as quickly as he possibly could.

They were skating by the stalls. The alarm was now even louder, sharp, and penetrating. Electra was gripping on Greaseball's loops tightly. He wasn’t as heavy as the diesel expected him to be, quite the contrary. Greaseball was almost afraid to take the turn to the exit door out of fear that it would throw Electra away.

Fortunately, the Racer was still the Racer – he knew how to take a turn at full speed. Their wheels squeaked as they smoothly skated into the stall, the one leading to the emergency exit.

Greaseball suddenly noticed something.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait!” he hissed at Electra behind him, not wanting to apply his brakes too fast so the electric locomotive wouldn’t crash into him. Once he felt Electra braking, he started slowing down as well.

“What?” Electra asked and let go of the couplers when Greaseball threw himself on the shelves.

The reason why the diesel suddenly stopped was a sight of warmly looking blankets stored on one of the shelves. The realization flashed through his head all at once – he had no idea what to do once they will get out. He was so focused on his plan of saving Electra that he didn’t even think about the next step. Where to go? What to do?

They needed to leave the town. That was for sure. And since they will probably have to spend some nights out in the open, these blankets could come in handy.

“How long it will take them to realize that I’m gone?” Electra asked anxiously.

Greaseball tucked two of the blankets under one of his arms. “It doesn’t matter because by the time they find out, you will already have been far away.” He almost turned to face him again – when a weirdly looking item caught his eye.

“What’s this?” he asked, kneeling so he could pick it up. It probably was supposed to be stored in a box somewhere but this particular piece was simply lying there as if someone put it aside and forgot about it.

“Some old shit, didn’t you say our time is limited?”

Greaseball was about to say the thing reminded him of solar panels but was all of sudden interrupted by the alarm falling silent.

“Fuck,” he breathed quietly. The silence was unbearable, almost threatening.

Electra, on the other hand, only seemed to relax.

“Great,” he said plainly, “now you’re trapped here as well.”

“No,” Greaseball whispered and got back to his wheels, “it just means they doused the fire, the exit doors are still open, _quick!”_

Electra grabbed onto his coupler loops once again, this time without being told to do so. With blankets under one arm and that weird looking panel under the other, Greaseball took off in the direction of the exit doors. He prayed to Starlight for them to be open – he didn’t want to start another fire.

They were open. Greaseball looked over his shoulder. Electra followed his gaze.

The warehouse behind them was quiet and cold.

Locking eyes for a moment, the two engines exchanged a quick nod before disappearing into the night, unseen.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't able to focus on writing during my vacation but I managed to finish this today. It's probably full of mistakes and grammatical errors and I'm genuinely sorry for that. I don't have a beta-reader so I have to fight on my own. I hope the mistakes are not too disturbing.
> 
> Enjoy!

They skated through the dark. Greaseball felt Electra’s hands tugging on his couplers but was checking on him nonetheless, always making sure that the electric engine was right behind him, secured and alright. He had his lights on so he could see the road ahead but was ready to turn them off at any time.

They didn’t know where they were going. Greaseball simply took the first turn that was leading away from the warehouse. If someone was going to go after them, they needed to get ahead as much as possible.

“We should probably keep going this night,” Greaseball said after an hour of quiet journey, briefly looking over his shoulder. “Just in case they’re after you, we need to –”

He trailed off. Electra behind him was unusually haunched down, his head almost falling on Greaseball’s shoulder blades.

“Electra?” he asked, slowing down. Electra let go of the loops, suddenly collapsing to the ground. Greaseball turned around just in time to catch him. “Electra!”

Just now he noticed how violently the electric engine was trembling. He was cold to touch, almost freezingly so, and it was clear that he was right on the edge of his consciousness.

“Electra, what’s wrong?” Greaseball asked, lowering himself to his knees so he could lay the Racer onto the ground. Electra’s eyes were closed and he quickly patted his cheek, now pale and almost greyish. “Come on, man,” he whispered, panic slowly rising inside of him, “look at me…”

Electra let out a soft whimper. His golden eyes opened, eyelids heavy and longing to simply close again. 

Greaseball brushed away a strand of hair out of his face. “What’s wrong?”

The electric engine tried to take a deep breath but his system failed him – his breaths were shallow and frantic as he tried to formulate a sentence. “My t – thermoregulator…”

“Is it broken?”

“G – gone,” he wheezed weakly. His body clenched in Greaseball’s arms as he tried to get the shaking under control. “The cooling system… is freezing down my sensors…”

“Can’t you just turn the cooling system off for a moment?”

Electra shook his head. He struggled to answer but nothing came out of him.

“Shit,” the diesel swore, sighing. “Why didn’t you say something, you idiot?!”

Electra didn’t respond even this time. He only whined quietly and let his head fall to the side until it was resting against Greaseball’s chest.

The diesel looked around. They were currently in the middle of nowhere. The land surrounding them was empty and cold, only a few rocks and tufts of grass here and there. There was a line of the mountains in the distance, drawn across the horizon. But apart from that, nothing.

“Okay, up you get,” he said eventually, lifting Electra to his wheels. “We need to get off the road.”

The Racer’s legs were shaking. Greaseball put one of his arms around the engine’s bony shoulder, holding him up so Electra wouldn’t collapse again. The sensors were extremely cold under his touch, the surface of Electra’s skinsuit misted as his temperature sharply contrasted with the warmer air.

They struggled forward, closer to the rocks that could hide them. Electra might have felt like nothing once he was coupled behind Greaseball but now that the diesel had to almost carry him, he didn’t feel exactly like a feather.

They made it around one of the rocks. It was creating a shield that could hide them from the sight of anyone who might appear on the road.

Greaseball helped Electra to sit down. The poor electric engine was shaking too much to be able to stand on his own.

The problem with trains is that they don’t produce heat such as people do. Their engines do – which is why a cooling system is a necessarry part of their system after all – but the rest of their bodies is just a piece of cold metal. They need the thermoregulator to produce warmth in order to balance out the temperature in their whole body. And if Electra’s thermoregulator was gone and his cooling system running, there was no way he could get warm on his own. Greaseball could wrap him in all blankets of the world and the engine would still freeze to death.

He sat down next to him, leaning against the rock. It wasn’t exactly comfortable to feel the stony ground and sharp edges of the surface behind his back but he could manage.

“Electra?” he asked, taking the other locomotive’s shaking hands in his to bring him closer. “Come here.”

Electra gave him a look when Greaseball tried to get him onto his lap.

“If you’re going to argue, I swear I’m gonna kill you,” the diesel said in a warning tone and helped Electra to settle down on the top of him. The engine's body immediately rested against his, weak and trembling violently, and Greaseball drew both of the blankets over them.

Then he turned off his own cooling system and increased the performance of his engine to create as much heat as possible. For this moment, he also let the lights on his plating on so they were pointing directly into Electra’s chest, creating more heat.

“Fine,” he murmured and wrapped his arms around the Racer’s body, rubbing his fingers into the frozen sensors. “Don’t fall asleep, okay? We need your engine to keep going.” He gently patted Electra’s cheek with one hand. “Come on. Talk to me.”

The locomotive let out a soft moan. He was now desperately pressing against Greaseball's chest and gripping on his shoulders as he was trying to absorb as much warmth as possible.

Greaseball tried to think of some questions to keep Electra’s brain busy. He shot out the first one that came into his mind. “Where are your components?”

Electra’s cold, quickened breath was blowing against the diesel's neck as he tried to speak. “I dunno…”

“When did you see them for the last time?”

“W – when I came b – back,” he forced out, his fingers digging into Greaseball's plating helplessly. “They dis – d – disconnected us… Sent them away… Can’t locate them…”

“Shit,” Greaseball swore, letting his head fall back. He looked up to the clear night sky above them. “We need to find someone to put you back together.”

“N – no one will…”

“Wrench could.”

“B – but how…”

“Don’t you remember anything?” Greaseball tried again, still rubbing Electra’s back with one hand. The Racer’s body was surprisingly soft, curvy almost. Not at all as hard, angular, and muscular as Greaseball’s was. Without its plating, it seemed fragile and vulnerable. “Where did they go?”

The electric’s engine was wheezing again, his cooling fans huffing. He shook his head. “No…”

“Focus, Electra,” Greaseball commanded. “I need you to focus now. Try to remember, okay? Anything at all, any detail that could be helpful.”

Electra shuddered in his arms, almost sobbing. “I’m so cold…”

“I know, man, but I need you to stay awake.”

“I want to sleep…”

“Nope,” Greaseball growled, “no sleeping, not yet.”

Electra didn’t respond this time. Greaseball could feel his body becoming limp.

“Fuck…” he uttered, increasing the performance of his engine once again. He pressed one of his hands against Electra’s chest to lift him a little, just enough so he could gain access to the zipper of his skinsuit. Rubbing the sensors back to life through the protective layer wasn’t enough anymore – they were completely unresponsive.

He unfastened the zipper, his eyes landing on the matte, delicate surface of the currently numb sensors underneath. He pulled the skinsuit down, just to bare Electra’s chest, shoulders, and back, and gently helped him to lie back on the top of him. Then he started rubbing him again.

The heat started to concentrate under the blankets and he suddenly felt the need to turn his cooling system back on. His body was hot, almost too much, but he needed to last at least a few more minutes until Electra’s sensibility kicks in once again.

“Talk to me, Electra,” he repeated, trying to keep him awake. With his sensors frozen down and inactive, Electra wouldn’t have to wake up ever again if he now fell asleep.

“About what?” the engine in his arms murmured.

“Anything,” Greaseball offered, unable to think of any concrete topic.

“My brain’s frozen,” Electra pointed out with wheezing voice, “can’t think of anything…”

Greaseball intensified the pressure on Electra’s sensors, rubbing his shoulder blades almost aggressively now. “What is your name?”

“You know very well what my name is, you prick.”

He almost chuckled as a wave of relief washed over him. “Well, I guess you’re getting better…”

“Still cold as the tip of dog’s nose, though,” Electra noted, burying his face into the crook of Greaseball’s neck.

“Just stay awake.” Greaseball moved one of his hands to Electra’s chest, running his fingertips over the delicate surface. He touches were gentle now as he felt the other engine shifting under them, reacting to the sensations.

 _Thank Starlight,_ the sensors were coming back.

“How could someone possibly fall asleep with you anyway…” Electra uttered and wrapped his skinny arms around Greaseball’s shoulders. His breath was slowly growing warmer.

“Tell me when it gets too much, okay?” Greaseball whispered into his ear, letting his fingers dance over Electra’s body – along his spine with one hand, over the sternum with the other. The electric’s sensors were soft to touch, almost velvety. They were slowly getting warmer and more pleasant to touch. Greaseball was focusing on the curves and shapes of Electra’s body, exploring unconsciously, stroking the bared parts with care.

“Greaseball…?” Electra spoke after a while of complete silence.

“Hmm?”

He shifted restlessly. “My sensors…”

“What?”

“It’s getting uncomfortable.”

“Sorry.” Greaseball immediately drew his hands back. The sensors were probably close to their usual sensitivity by now and the touch was getting too much for Electra to bear. He grabbed the hem of the skinsuit and draped it over the locomotive's bony shoulders to cover the sensitive surface of his naked body once again. “Better?”

“Can I sleep now?” Electra asked. The wheezing sound of his engine subsided and his voice now came back to its usual soft tone. “I’m tired.”

“Are you warm?”

Electra nodded. “For now.”

“Fine,” Greaseball agreed, moving his hands to Electra’s thighs to rub them gently. “We’ll just hope they won’t find us over the night.”

“They won’t be looking for me,” Electra answered. His voice was already weak and quiet, almost a whisper as he was slowly drifting off. “They don’t care about me. No one does.”

He fell asleep right after, just as Greaseball felt his metaphorical heart sank at the sound of his words.

“I do,” he whispered into his ear.

However, Electra didn’t hear it.


	6. Chapter 6

When Greaseball opened his eyes, the sun was already rising. He had set his internal alarm to wake him up in the morning so they wouldn’t sleep necessarily long. Still, it wasn’t too early. He wanted to provide Electra with some much-needed rest – the Racer was still sleeping in his arms, his head lying on Greaseball’s shoulder. It was hot under the blankets as Greaseball left his cooling system turned off for the night, so naturally, the first thing he did was to get rid of the blankets.

Electra shifted at the sudden loss of warmth. Apparently, his body stiffened during the night and he groaned quietly as he moved. “Fuck…”

“Good morning to you, too,” Greaseball grinned, enjoying the fresh morning air that now surrounded them. He turned his cooling system back on, feeling the cooling fans inside of him huffing softly, just as they should.

Electra shuddered, struggling to move. His engine let out a weird noise that sounded a bit like a dying bear.

The diesel looked at him worriedly, almost alarmed.

“Sorry,” Electra breathed out. He managed to move his arms so he could lift himself off Greaseball’s chest. “This will probably take some time…”

“What?”

“Booting up,” Electra clarified. “It’s always a bit tough to make it run, just… give me a sec…”

Greaseball was watching his face. Now in the shallow morning sun rays, it was clear that whoever was running the warehouse, they weren’t doing a good job at taking care of the retired trains. Electra’s face was unhealthily pale, his hair neglected and his skinsuit dull and dirty. There even were some damaged spots that probably led way back to the crash.

Greaseball sadly realized that even though the crash happened two years ago, no one took the trouble to put him back together properly. Wrench probably did what she could back then, but as soon as Electra got sold, no one cared about him enough to finish what she had started.

Electra noticed Greaseball was staring and raised a brow. “What?”

“We need a plan,” the diesel said, his gaze still wandering all over Electra’s face. He might be neglected but under all that dirt, he was somehow still impossibly beautiful. “We need to find your components. If there’s someone who can put you back together, it’s Wrench. And the others.”

“I don’t know where they are,” Electra reminded him and straightened his back once his engine was humming obediently. The sound still wasn’t exactly healthy to Greaseball’s ears but there was nothing he could do about it. He was no repair truck. “They disconnected them from my server, I can’t locate them anymore. I’ve already tried.”

“Don’t you really remember anything?”

Electra sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. The sunlight was dancing over his face and Greaseball wished for a washcloth so he could wipe away all the smudges and grayness. He remembered how damn attractive Electra was with his sharp features, his plump lips, slightly blushed cheeks, with that little dimp in his chin and so impossibly long eyelashes…

“Ashington.”

Greaseball blinked, surprised. “What’s that?”

“I don’t know,” Electra shrugged, looking at him once again. “A place, I guess. I remember the manager of the racing commission I was working for saying that, shortly before they sold me.”

“Do you think your components could be there?”

“I have no idea,” the electric admitted sadly. “I don’t even know if they are together or if they separated them as well. They send me away almost immediately, I didn’t even get the chance to talk to them, to say goodbye.”

He lowered his gaze now. His throat moved slightly as he swallowed. “This is all I remember.”

He clearly missed his components. He missed everything that was once part of his life, the life that people destroyed just because he lost once. As if people weren’t going through their small losses every single day.

“Do you think it would be different if you didn’t come back?” Greaseball asked, scanning his face closely. “If you didn’t listen to me?”

Electra looked at him for a moment, thinking about it.

“I’m not sure,” he answered then and shook his head dismissively. “Probably not. They would send for me anyway. They knew that I lost even before they talked to me. They were always watching everything I was doing, always knew where I was.”

“Wasn’t that…” Greaseball frowned as he tried to imagine, “bit controlling?”

A slight sign of confusion appeared on Electra’s face. “What do you mean?”

“What about your private life?”

“I’m a Racer,” the electric pointed out.

“And what?”

“Racing is my life. Was,” he corrected himself immediately. “What else should I be doing?”

“I don’t know.” This time it was Greaseball who shrugged, looking up to the blue sky above them for a moment. “Have fun. Spend time with friends. Fall in love.”

Electra scoffed. “Stupid…”

“It’s not.”

“I didn’t have time for that,” he argued. “I’m too fast for this sort of life.” He paused. _“Was…”_

Greaseball shifted slightly, lifting the upper part of his body off the rock. His sensors almost screamed at the sensation and he rubbed his left shoulder with one hand, wincing.

Electra sat on his lap, motionless.

The diesel sighed. “They told me I can race again.”

He noticed how the Racer’s eyes darkened – just a second before Electra looked away. “Good for you, I guess.”

“That’s not the point,” Greaseball clarified, and without thinking, he let his hands fall to the other locomotive’s hips. “Electra, if I can race again, it means that you can, too.”

Electra shook his head. “I can’t…”

“You weren’t scraped as badly as I was,” Greaseball reminded him, knowing it was true. “They fucked you up, yes, but you can still be repaired, you can still come back to racing.”

Electra’s eyes were empty when he looked at Greaseball again. Empty and resigned. “Do you truly believe this?”

“You’ve always been saying that you’re the future,” the diesel said softly. “Don’t let the presence to get in your way.”

Electra’s cooling system suddenly kicked in and his chest rose as he took a sharp breath.

“I’ve promised myself that I’m going to get you back on the racetrack,” Greaseball continued and dared to reach out to Electra’s face, trying to wipe off the dark smudge right next to the corner of the Racer’s mouth. “And I’m going to fulfill that promise, no matter what.”

Electra didn’t pull away. He just kept staring. “Why?”

Greaseball sighed. That was a question he wasn’t able to answer, yet.


	7. Chapter 7

“You’re being a prick. Again.”

“I’m not a prick.”

“You are.”

“You told me I was dirty.”

“You were!”

“I was not!” Electra argued. “I can take care of myself, I don’t need you.”

Greaseball raised his brow at this but didn’t say anything. Throughout the past few days, he learned that there’s no point in arguing with Electra once he decided to be insufferable. And Electra was quite good at it – complaining about everything, being rude all the time, unable to simply shut up. There were moments when Greaseball had to hold himself back otherwise he would punch him.

But then Electra’s mood would change. It always did, eventually. He always grew silent and Greaseball simply couldn’t be angry with him anymore once he saw the sadness written in Electra’s eyes.

Every day, when the sun fell to the horizon, he started eyeing the Racer with concern. As soon as he noticed him trembling, they stopped for the night.

At first, Electra was strictly refusing to sleep close to Greaseball. After what happened on the first night, he was trying to keep some distance between them, often saying he didn’t need Greaseball to babysit him. They would fall asleep simply lying next to each other but Greaseball was always checking on Electra during the night, only to find the electric shaking sooner or later, desperate for any source of warmth. 

Even though Greaseball provided that every single time, Electra still refused him again the next day.

Greaseball somehow sensed that Electra was, in fact, simply hiding his self-consciousness. Every time he took the trembling locomotive into his arms, he could see how vulnerable Electra was under the bitchy surface.

He didn’t say anything, though. Electra wasn’t the one to talk about his feelings and Greaseball wasn’t a good listener anyway.

“We both know this is not quite true, Electra,” he said casually, not even looking at the engine sitting across the table. They stopped at some forgotten petrol station and while Greaseball was drinking his oil, Electra was plugged into a power source to charge his batteries.

Electra was silent for a moment.

“Fine,” he growled eventually. “I do need you a bit.”

Greaseball didn’t argue further. _I need you a bit_ was fine with him, as long as it was coming from Electra himself.

The Racer’s skinsuit wasn’t so dull and dirty anymore. Once they found out there was a washrack available at the petrol station, the both gladly took advantage of it. As a result, Electra’s skinsuit was now glittering in the pale morning sun and the skin of his face looked way healthier as all the smudges and greyness gave a way to his rosy cheeks and red lips.

“Do you think we’re going to find them there?” Electra asked suddenly, his gaze vacantly fixed on some non-existent point in the space.

“I hope,” Greaseball answered honestly. There wasn’t more for him to say. 

Electra let out a long breath and his cooling fans wheezed. Greaseball would swear the sounds coming from him were getting worse with every day but didn’t dare to say it out loud. Instead, he was always keeping an eye on Electra, stopping for a break every time the engine coupled behind him seemed to need it. It was slowing them down, making originally a three-day journey much longer – they were on their way for a week already – but Greaseball wouldn’t risk Electra’s life like this. Not anymore.

But two days from now, they were supposed to arrive at their final destination. And they both were hoping for the best.

“Why are you still carrying this stupid thing?” Electra murmured and gestured to the solar panel Greaseball had put aside previously.

The diesel shrugged. “It could come in handy.”

“This old shit?”

“It’s some sort of a solar panel,” Greaseball explained, “and you’re electric, right?”

Electra was eyeing him suspiciously. “And what?”

“In case something goes wrong with your engine or your batteries, we still have this.”

“Excuse me, do you know how to connect it to my system?”

Now Greaseball paused. “I have absolutely no idea.”

“Then it’s useless!”

“I would tell you what is useless but it would offend you.”

Electra’s expression grew cold. Hurt, almost.

Greaseball sighed when he realized that he just added some salt to on open wound. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

“You did.”

“If I did, I wouldn’t be helping you, don’t you think?”

The Racer didn’t look convinced but said no more.

They were sitting in uncomfortable silence for a while, Greaseball sipping his oil and Electra avoiding eye contact by staring into the distance. Eventually, it was Greaseball who crashed through the surface of awkwardness. “You’re not useless, you know.”

Electra scoffed. “We both know I am.”

“You’re not,” the diesel argued. “You said you don’t have a purpose in this world if you’re not able to race. It’s not true.”

This time, the electric turned to him, the elegant line of his left brow raised in irony. “What purpose do I have in your opinion, then?”

“They don’t own you anymore.” Greaseball leaned forward, looking into his eyes unwaveringly. “No one does. You can do whatever you want and no one has the right to say a word against it.”

A bitter grin tugged at the corner of Electra’s mouth as he turned away once more.

“Also,” Greaseball added, his voice much softer now, “racing was never the only purpose. These things never are.”

The Racer probably noticed the change in his tone because he gave him a slightly confused look. “Huh?”

“You always play a part in other’s lives,” Greaseball shrugged. “In the lives of everyone who care about you.”

He remembered Dinah as he was saying this, and right after the memory of his gang came to his mind. He sighed. “As long as you have someone who cares, you have a purpose.”

“I don’t have anyone.”

Greaseball looked at Electra, shaking his head in a gesture of disapproval. “What about your components?” he asked. And after another second of hesitating, he added a quiet: “About _me?”_

The Racer’s eyes widened a bit. He was staring at Greaseball now, clearly without a single idea of what to respond.

It made the diesel to back out a bit. “Um… we _are_ friends, right?”

Electra was still staring, but eventually, he relaxed and dropped his gaze to the ground. A smile now appeared on his face, and it was clear that he was trying to hide it. Important to say – unsuccessfully.

“Yes,” he answered after a while, almost shyly. He looked at Greaseball. _“We are, now.”_


	8. Chapter 8

_Ashington_ wasn’t anything Greaseball was imagining. For some reason, he expected a labyrinth of skyscrapers, huge and wild, a place filled with the latest technology and the newest models of electric engines. He didn’t even know why his imagination had created this picture.

So when a small town appeared in front of them, drowned in heavy heat and an exceptional amount of sand, he was almost disappointed.

“It was founded in 1763,” Electra suddenly said. They were standing on a hill, looking down on the town. “It’s a mining town, with the mining area right over there.” He pointed to the left where Greaseball could see a bunch of wooden houses, right under the rocks. No modern technology, as if this place had frozen in time centuries ago. The mines seemed to be almost abandoned. “They closed the mines at the beginning of the 19th century when an unplanned explosion killed over 70 mineworkers and the mineshafts got flooded. It had stayed this way until three years ago when people rediscovered this place and reopened the mines.”

“How do you know that?” Greaseball was staring at him. Electra spilled all of this out so suddenly that Greaseball didn’t even have the chance to focus on the story itself – instead, he was constantly wondering how the hell Electra knew all of this.

The Racer only shrugged. “I have access to the internet.”

“So you’re just googling things as you go?” They both started to move down the road again. Electra clearly wanted to go on his own now and Greaseball wasn’t trying to keep him from it. As long as they were skating slowly, the Racer was able to manage a few minutes without his help.

Electra nodded at the diesel’s question. “Yup,” he popped his lips.

“Wait,” Greaseball suddenly stopped as a thought formed in his head. “So you can just casually watch porn right inside your head?!”

Electra stopped as well but only to give Greaseball a perplexed look. “Porn?”

“Don’t play innocent,” the diesel grinned at him, “no one believes you, anyway.”

“I don’t know what porn is.”

It almost made Greaseball laugh. Electra was a prick most of the time, but there were moments when he was genuinely funny.

“Google it, then,” Greaseball suggested jokingly and gestured to his couplers so Electra would grab on them again. The electric did.

“I can’t,” Electra announced after a while, right as they took a turn into the main street. “For some reason, the website says I have to be older than 18 years to enter, and don’t you dare to think that I’m ever getting this old.”

“You’re much less adventurous than I assumed you to be,” Greaseball noted with a laugh, looking around and taking in the aesthetic of the town – before he suddenly paused. He stopped and turned around, looking Electra in the eyes. “Wait, are you serious?”

The Racer nodded. There was no sign of amusement in his face, nothing that would suggest he was only joking. “I am.”

Greaseball tilted his head suspiciously. “You’ve never watched porn before?”

“Why is so hard to believe?”

“But…” he started, suddenly confused, “you’ve had sex, right?”

Electra blinked, staring at Greaseball as if he had no idea what the diesel was talking about.

Greaseball rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on…”

“What?”

“No way you’re a virgin.”

Electra frowned. For a moment, his gaze became distant, as if he was looking _through_ Greaseball instead of _at_ him.

“Well,” he shrugged after a few seconds, “according to Wikipedia, I am.”

That took Greaseball completely off guard. He was expecting Electra to argue about it, to be his usual cocky self. It would be such an Electra thing to do – to simply deny it just so he wouldn’t look stupid. Not at all was Greaseball expecting him to admit it so easily – and neither was he expecting him to need to look the word _virgin_ up on fucking Wikipedia.

“But…” He was at a loss of words. He remembered very well how flirtatious Electra was two years ago, before the race. How he was swinging his hips all the time, always eyeing the other trains and coaches. How he provocatively bit his lip and batted his eyelashes every time he was talking to someone, how confidently he was carrying himself on his wheels. “You were flirting with everyone all the time! Starlight, there were moments when I thought you were flirting with me!”

“Flirting is something Killerwatt taught me,” Electra answered casually. He covered his mouth with his forearm when the wind suddenly started to mess around with the omnipresent sand. “An easy way to get what I want.”

“Well…” Greaseball shielded his eyes with his hand as well, “he had a point, for sure.”

He started looking around again, searching for some sort of a shelter on instinct. Without his important parts – such as filter, Greaseball would bet – Electra wasn’t safe if exposed to such an environment. “But it doesn’t explain how are you making it seem that you’ve had it in every way possible.”

“Had what?”

Electra’s soft voice made Greaseball shiver. He looked at the electric engine, so fragile without his plating and yet so beautiful, and stepped a bit closer to him.

His gaze was wandering all over Electra’s pretty face, seeing now what he’d never seen before – seeing past the mask. “Are you really that innocent?” he asked, whispering.

Electra was looking back at him, his golden eyes confused and pure. He drew his arm away from his face and his red lips parted as he struggled to find an answer. “I…”

It all happened too fast for Greaseball to truly process it. At first, Electra’s gaze wandered somewhere behind the diesel’s back. A moment later, his eyes went wide.

“Joule,” he whispered suddenly. Before Greaseball even managed to turn around, Electra pushed him out of his way. _“Joule!”_

There was no way for Greaseball to stop Electra while struggling not to end up on his ass. Before he restored his balance, the Racer already skated off.

The last time Greaseball saw him go this fast was during the race. Moments before the crash. The memory flashed in front of his eyes and panic suddenly rose within him.

“Electra!” he screamed. The Racer wasn’t at all suitable for a full-speed ride. _Starlight,_ he could kill himself!

He didn’t see what Electra had seen previously. He wasn’t even trying to see it, he didn’t care. He skated off as fast as he could, trying to avoid the trail of sand in the air Electra left behind. His engine was rumbling as he was trying to catch up with the electric and get hold of his couplers.

However, the sand was spreading quickly, creating a thick cloud. In a few seconds, Greaseball couldn’t even see Electra’s silhouette. He heard the unhealthy sounds of the electric’s engine somewhere in front of him but nothing more than that.

He blinked forcefully as his eyes started burning from all the dirt in the air. He tried to rub it off quickly with one hand but the touch only made it worse.

Then he heard a scream.


	9. Chapter 9

It wasn’t Electra’s scream. This one sounded feminine, more feminine than the Racer’s voice was.

Greaseball stopped. He couldn’t see anymore. Tears were prickling in his eyes as the sand was irritating their sensitive, delicate surface. His engine was rushing in his chest and his cooling system was huffing loudly. He tried to blink away the sand that got into his eyes. Panic was rising in him as he still couldn’t see the electric. He couldn’t even hear him, now. “Electra!”

It took a few long seconds for the air to clear a bit. The cloud of sand started to dissolve and suddenly, Greaseball spotted two silhouettes crouching over something that looked far too much like a lying Electra.

“No,” he breathed, shaking his head. “Electra!”

He skated off again, his engine rumbling in his chest as he imagined Electra being hurt. A few seconds were all it took for him to overcome the distance separating him from the Racer.

“Electra?” he asked quickly as he got close enough to see Electra’s face. He was just about to land on his knees next to him, to make sure the electric was alright or to at least see what went wrong…

_“Hey!”_ Strong hands suddenly gripped onto his arms, right above the elbows. Greaseball wanted to fight on instinct but it was no use – before he even managed to try and jerk away, that someone behind him was already holding both of his hands behind his back, twisting them and straining his joints.

Greaseball wasn’t paying attention to their surroundings before. He noticed there were people around, engines and coaches – but it wasn’t until now that he really looked around.

Everyone was watching them. There was confusion in their eyes, as well as curiosity, _shock,_ even.

Greaseball looked at the truck that was sitting by Electra’s head – only to meet Joule’s widened eyes.

“Greaseball?” she asked, her voice making it obvious that she struggled to believe it was him.

“Let me go, for fuck’s sake!” The diesel didn’t even need to see the face of the component behind him to know it was Killerwatt. All he needed was to catch a glimpse of the sign on the bodyguard’s chest.

Killerwatt let go, taken aback. Greaseball didn’t bother with him. He quickly sank to his knees, taking Electra’s face in his hands.

_Thank Starlight,_ the electric was conscious. He was looking at Greaseball with frightened eyes, gasping and struggling for air. As soon as the diesel touched his face, he gripped on his forearm, digging his fingers into Greaseball’s plating convulsively.

“Something’s wrong,” he wheezed with effort. His eyelids trembled as he struggled to keep them open. “Something’s terribly wrong…”

Just now, Greaseball noticed that Electra was pressing his other hand into his stomach as if he was in pain.

“You idiot…” he breathed out before he turned to Joule. “What happened?”

“Heard him calling my name,” Joule answered. Her voice was trembling slightly as she looked down on Electra, gently stroking his hair. “I didn’t recognize him at first, but then he came closer and... He started shaking, I don’t know what happened…”

“I managed to catch him before he crashed,” Killerwatt said from behind and Greaseball turned to look at him properly for the first time. The security truck had his sunglasses on, which was making it impossible for Greaseball to determine the expression of his eyes.

“What’s wrong with him?” Joule asked quietly. Electra was now staring up at her – as if the sight of her face was the only thing he could hold onto. The sounds of his cooling system were almost scary now, harsh, loud, and rambling.

“Can you breathe?” Greaseball asked him, waiting for his answer worriedly.

Electra’s eyes closed. “My engine…”

It was all Greaseball needed to hear to let out a silent: “Fuck...” 

“What’s wrong with his engine?” Joule turned to him, visibly concerned.

“Everything,” the diesel answered plainly, looking up to Killerwatt who was towering over him like a mountain. “We need to get him out of here. Is there someplace where we can lay him down and keep him safe from the sand? A shed, perhaps?”

“Yeah,” Joule hurried to answer before the security truck could open his mouth.

Greaseball looked at her. “Can we get him there?”

“I’ll carry him,” Killerwatt offered, already in the process of getting Greaseball out of his way. He lifted Electra’s limp body as if it weighed nothing, and with Joule and Greaseball following him he made his way out of the spotlight they found themselves in. Many eyes were still on them as they left the main street and Joule turned on her wheels to shout something at them. Greaseball wasn’t listening to what exactly was she saying but the fact that the small crowd they left behind suddenly started to dissolve was a bit of a clue.

“Here,” Joule squeezed past Killetwatt as they rolled through the door of a small shed. It probably belonged to her because she quickly made her way to the berth, arranging the pillows and blankets to make it comfortable for Electra to lie in it. She was moving around quickly, obviously surrounded by a very familiar environment. 

“We need a repair truck,” Greaseball announced as soon as Killerwat placed Electra on the berth. “His engine was royally fucked up even before so we probably have a serious problem here.”

The Racer was looking up at them with glassy, scared eyes. He was breathing heavily and the sounds of his cooler system were quickly getting worse. Greaseball took one of Electra’s shaking hands into his, drawing small circles on his skin as he tried to comfort him.

“Greaseball, can you just tell us –”

“He’s probably missing more than half of his body, including his engine,” Greaseball shot at Killerwatt, sending a heated glare in his direction. “Listen, I have no idea how bad it is or what the shit that’s keeping him going actually is, and I have no idea what to do. Where’s Wrench?”

“She’s not here,” Joule shook her head, her expression sad and slightly panicked. “We don’t know where she is, it’s only me and Killerwatt.”

Greaseball froze for a second before letting out a frustrated groan. “Fuck…”

“Joule…?” Electra whined silently, still pressing his palm into his belly. His whole body was clenching uncontrollably, spasming as it tried to somehow deal with the pain.

“It’s okay, baby.” Joule was by his side in a moment, taking the Racer’s face in her hands. “We’ve got you.”

“I’ll go get Tera,” Killerwatt suddenly spoke, moving away from the berth to skate out of the shed. “She’s the repair truck here.”

Greaseball didn’t even manage to nod in time – the security truck was already out of the door.

Tera rushed in only minutes later. Everyone in Ashington knew at this point. The ones who witnessed Electra’s wild ride and then watched him collapse were now spreading the news to everyone else. It seemed that the locals rarely got the chance to witness something at least a bit exciting, something out of their everyday routine. No wonder Electra’s dramatic entrance caught their attention.

Therefore, Tera knew exactly what happened. She heard enough to conclude her assistance was going to be needed sooner or later. She was ready to go as soon as Killerwatt approached her.

She was an older model than Wrench or Mechan. Hard work in the mines was showing on her plating – it was dull and dirty, and slightly rusty around her joints. There were tiny little scratches all over her body which Greaseball guessed to be a consequence of the omnipresent sand. When he looked at Killerwatt and Joule, they carried the exact same marks.

Tera sent them away as soon as she stepped into the shed. Electra gave Greaseball an alarmed look, clearly not wanting to be left alone. Greaseball tried to protest, then, saying he will stay by the Racer’s side but Tera was uncompromising. Without any success, Greaseball was forced to follow the two components out of the shed and simply wait – stressed, worried, without anything to do.

Joule was sitting by the wall, leaning against it with her back. Killerwatt took off his sunglasses, finally exposing his tired and concerned pale blue eyes. Greaseball was drawing circles in the sand with his wheels. They were waiting for two hours, now. Barely talking, not even looking at each other. The air was hot and tense between them – as if there was a gas present, quietly waiting for someone to set off a spark.

Killerwatt was the one who decided to blow them up. Suddenly, he broke the silence. “Why are you with him?”

He didn’t look up but Greaseball knew the truck was talking to him anyway. “Because no one else was?”

Now Killerwatt peeled his eyes off the ground, burning a hole into the diesel with the intensity of his gaze. “Electra would never want you around.”

“That’s all you have to say?” Greaseball scoffed. “Well, lemme tell you – things change over time.”

Killerwatt did nothing but raised his brow, which somehow aggravated Greaseball even more.

“He would be dead without me,” he spat, feeling the need to defend his place in Electra’s life. “He was waiting for the moment when they would shut him down so don’t try me – I was there. You were not.”

Both of the components now gave Greaseball a look. Apparently, they were fighting the urge to not trust Greaseball but given the fact they’d seen what state was Electra in, it wasn’t as simple as they hoped.

Eventually, Killerwatt sighed in resignation. “What happened?”

“Somehow he ended up in a spare parts store,” Greaseball answered, his tone a lot calmer now. “Providing the spare parts. He had only two weeks to live when I found him there.”

Joule covered her mouth with one hand and Killerwatt ran his fingers through his hair. “Shit.”

Now that Greaseball was looking at them, it felt as if he wasn’t looking at the components he met two years ago. No sparkling costumes, or eye-catching makeup, no dramatic poses and fashionable hairstyles. They were in good condition, clearly strong and healthy but still – the hard work in mines left its signature on them. They were coated in a mixture of dust and sand, the colors of their platings and skinsuits dull and faded by the sun. Their hair was a mess since there was no point in taking care of them, much less the time to style it. There was a tiny crack in Killerwatt’s sunglasses and a deep scratch in Joule’s shoulder plate.

“How could you let this happen?” Greaseball asked with a sigh, moving his attention back to the circles he was drawing into the sand. “You knew him, you had to know he’s not suitable for hard work, that they’re going to get rid of him sooner or later.”

“We knew,” Killerwatt announced, his voice cold and sharp. “We did what we could.”

Greaseball chuckled bitterly. “Right…”

“They wanted to send him here,” Joule suddenly intervened. Her high voice made Greaseball look at her. “To work in the mines.”

“He was already sold when we got back from the race,” the bodyguard added. “For a huge amount of money. He wasn’t good enough to win anymore so they at least made a killing with the price tag.”

“He didn’t even value that much,” Joule continued with a pained expression in her eyes, “not after the crash. He needed to be repaired but they refused to invest in him. They lied to the buyer about the state he was in, just so they could earn more.”

“The mines would kill him.” Killerwatt looked at Greaseball. “It’s what you said. He’s not suitable for hard work. He’s too fragile, too sensitive.”

“We offered ourselves to go,” Joule whispered, “instead of him.”

Greaseball now felt ashamed for what he had said – and assumed. When he met Electra and his components for the first time, he didn’t care about what kind of relationship they had together. He never took the trouble to observe how close the electric was with them, and how dear he was to them. He had never given it a single thought, not even during the past week. Only now he realized – suddenly it was obvious.

“We didn’t tell him.” The security truck was now playing with the sunglasses as if he was nervous, or maybe just uncomfortable. “They intended to separate us from the start, there wasn’t much to do about it, anyway. Wrench said she’ll try to find a safer place for Electra once we managed to trade ourselves for him. That she’ll send him somewhere where he will be able to survive.” He let out a long sigh. “That was the last time we spoke before they sent us away. We never got to know what happened to him or her.”

Joule let her head fall against the wall, her eyes wandering around without any particular target. “They didn’t ask us what we want to do. They never really cared about us, or him. They disconnected us without even giving us the chance to say goodbye.” She swallowed, her voice becoming a bit hoarse. “I thought we were never going to see him again.”

If Greaseball was angry at them before, now he was angry at a totally different party. No matter how long he’d lived on this planet, surrounded by people and their little worlds, he still couldn’t understand how a person could trade someone’s health and happiness for money. How could they ruin the life of someone as innocent as Electra, and as devoted and loving as his components?

But then he remembered his own behavior – how he traded everyone who cared about him just for the sweet flavor of fame, how badly he treated Dinah and everyone else just because he was selfish and stupid.

How badly he treated Electra simply because he was too blind to see past their rivalry.

“This is so fucked up…” he groaned and rubbed his eyes with his fingers. This day was already way too long – the sun was slowly sinking to the horizon and the sky above them was colored with vibrant shades of fire.

Either of the components didn’t answer him – a sudden sound of the doors being opened made them all look up. In a moment, their conversation was completely forgotten. Joule shot to her wheels as Tera emerged from the shed, and in a moment, all three were surrounding the poor repair truck like a bunch of impatient children.

“How’s he?” Killerwatt wanted to know. They all did.

Tera sighed heavily and closed the doors behind her. Greaseball tried to get at least a glimpse of Electra but only saw the edge of the berth.

“I don’t have much experience with Racers,” Tera started, “but I think you all know he’s not good.”

She turned to Greaseball, her expression cold and stern as if the diesel was the one to blame. “What exactly happened to him?”

Greaseball lowered his gaze to the ground. It wasn’t comfortable to feel her eyes on him like this. “A spare parts store,” he murmured.

Tera growled.

“Someone really should make trading with parts of living engines illegal,” she huffed under her breath, an expression of clear disapproval now visible in her face. “Well. I did what I could. His cooling system is cleaned now, but since he doesn’t have a filter, he needs to stay inside. The sand could kill him.”

“Fine,” Joule acknowledged and Greaseball nodded. That one didn’t exactly come as a surprise.

“Many parts are missing,” Tera continued her listing, “but luckily not the necessary ones. Just keep him warm and check the sensibility of his sensors regularly. Make sure he can feel everything and that the sensors are responsive.”

“What about his engine?” Greaseball asked, forcing Tera to get to the critical point.

“Well…” She lowered her gaze worryingly now, sighing. “I have no idea who could have done this to him, but… the engine he’s currently carrying is actually an engine that is commonly used for electric boats.” She straightened her pose again. “And it’s in no way compatible with his system.”

Killerwatt’s mouth fell open. _“For boats?”_

“Are you kidding?” Greaseball deadpanned. Joule standing next to him gasped.

“I wish I was. I’ve never seen anything like this before, and I hope I’ll never see it again,” Tera said in a serious tone of voice. “The engine was modified so it could be connected to the system. It can keep him going but, since it’s not compatible, a short circuit may occur at any time. I’m surprised that he’s still alive.”

There was something inside of Greaseball that just broke. The thought that Electra could die at any given moment hit him and it hit him hard. His gaze fell on the door, desperately trying to penetrate through them so he could see the electric, to be sure that he’s alive – at least for now.

He didn’t listen to what Tera was saying anymore. He stepped out of the line they formed around the repair truck, moving closer to the doors so he could open them. Electra was soundly asleep on the berth, covered with a layer of warm blankets, surrounded by the warmth of Joule’s shed. The expression of his face was peaceful and innocent, his sharp features somehow softer than they usually were.

“Thank you, Tera,” he heard Killerwatt saying.

“I’ll check on him tomorrow,” Tera replied. A sigh followed shortly after. “But that’s all I can do.”

Greaseball swallowed. He couldn’t take his eyes off of Electra. He simply stood in the doors, not sure whether or not to go in.

It wasn’t what he had originally planned. He only wanted to help Electra to find his components, to make him capable of racing again. Once this mission would be completed, he would leave to chase his own new life once again – a new life he had no idea how to start.

And yet, here he was, at the door leading to Electra’s world, unable to find the strength to even imagine leaving the Racer ever again. He could step in or step out – fall for Electra or leave him. There was no between. Once he would enter the room, he would never leave again. He knew that much.

He knew when he stepped inside, what he had chosen.

There was no way out anymore.


	10. Chapter 10

When Greaseball opened his eyes the next morning, the first thing he saw was Electra peering at him. Almost furiously so. Leaning on his hands that were placed on both sides of the diesel’s head, he was watching him with glowing eyes and full lips pressed into a sharp line. Before Greaseball could make a sound, much less to say something, his high-pitched voice shot through the silence of the shed. “What’s wrong with me?”

The diesel blinked, confused. “Huh?”

“You heard me.”

“On Earth, we say _good morning, how are you doing,_ you know?” Greaseball murmured, still not quite awake. He tried to sit up but Electra only lowered himself on him, nailing him down with nothing but his physical proximity.

“She refused to tell me anything,” he said, for some reason sounding mad.

“Has no one ever taught you the basics of polite interaction?”

“Seriously, how many times do I need to ask?”

Greaseball sighed in frustration. “Starlight, you really can be annoying…”

“Why didn’t she tell me?”

“Electra,” he raised his hands in a hold-on gesture, “could you _please_ shut up for a second?”

“Am I going to die?”

That made Greaseball blink in surprise. Electra didn’t sound sad or scared, really just seriously upset and frustrated from not knowing. The diesel considered telling him, remembering what Tera told them the previous night but since he wasn’t exactly sure how Electra would react or if it wouldn’t make his state even worse, he decided to dodge the question. “How did you come to this conclusion?”

Electra finally put some distance between them and sat up. “Because while she was checking on my engine, she had this expression on her face that made me feel like she’s gonna suffocate me with a pillow out of mercy, just so I don’t have to suffer.”

“I can confirm that no matter what,” Greaseball shook his head, “she wasn’t up to _that_ one.”

“I don’t want to die, Greaseball.” The electric’s expression suddenly changed, as if there had been a veil thrown over his face that now fell off, a facade that just cracked. He dropped his gaze and his lips parted as he let out a shaky breath. In the rays of the weak morning sun shining through the small window, his skin suddenly seemed to be even paler than usual, almost translucent.

“You won’t,” Greaseball whispered, sitting up as well. Electra looked at him, his eyes dark and deep.

“What’s wrong with me?” he asked again, but this time his voice was quiet and tiny, not demanding at all. As if he wasn’t even sure whether or not he wanted to know.

Greaseball let out a long sigh, looking down at his hands for a moment. He bit his lip before he spoke. “The engine that’s keeping you going is not compatible with your system.”

Electra seemed to know exactly what that meant. “So what can happen is…”

“A short-circuit,” the diesel confirmed, feeling weird tightness in his chest.

The Racer was silent for a moment. His long, pale throat moved as he swallowed and he looked around, unsure of where to land his gaze. He pressed his lips together again, his breath hitching audibly. “I knew I shouldn’t believe them when they told me it’s alright…”

Greaseball frowned. “What do you mean?”

“After they sold my engine and replaced it with this shit,” Electra elaborated, “they told me not to turn my cooling system off otherwise the engine could explode.” A bitter smile cracked through his emotionless face. “But apart from that, everything was alright, perfect, absolutely top-notch…”

“I’m sorry,” the diesel said. “This shouldn’t have happened to you.”

“I’m fine,” Electra murmured, his eyes glued to his hands that were lifelessly laying in his lap. “You don’t have to cry over me.”

“Of course,” Greaseball chuckled in irony. “You just can’t swallow your pride, can you?”

Electra opened his mouth to say something but in the last second, he changed his mind and he closed it again. He crossed his arms on his chest as if he was pouting but Greaseball understood the true meaning of the gesture as soon as he noticed his trembling fingers. He reached out to him, touching his arm. The surface of the Racer’s skinsuit was cool to touch, not exactly freezing but still not as warm as it should be. “You’re cold.”

“I don’t need –”

“Shut up, Electra,” the diesel gave him an uncompromising look. “You need help. You can’t go through this on your own.”

Electra was staring at him for a few quiet moments, eyes unmoving and mouth slightly open as if in surprise.

“Right,” he said then in an empty tone. “I was never able to do anything on my own.”

“What?” Greaseball grimaced, “that’s not what I –” 

“It’s true,” Electra interrupted. “I’m nothing but a spoiled Racer, unable to take care of himself, always having his components right behind his ass to take care of him, always having someone to control everything he’s doing. Because when I’m on my own, I’m unreliable, I’m… clueless, and…”

“Hey,” Greaseball said soothingly as soon as he heard Electra’s voice cracking. He reached out his hand, gently cupping one of the electric’s cheeks. He didn’t know if Electra will allow him to touch him like this and was ready to draw back at any second. “Let’s calm down a bit, okay?”

“They had me imprisoned like a fucking princess,” the Race choked out, his eyes glistening now. He didn’t seem to notice the touch at all. “Holding the world out of my reach so I wouldn’t know what life is about…”

“Do you mean the commission?” Greaseball asked with a frown. “The racing commission you once mentioned?”

“Yeah,” Electra nodded and swallowed, trying to ease the pressure in his throat that was making his voice hoarse. “That’s what the life of a Racer looks like. It’s not all glitter, and money, and ovations, it’s…” He shrugged. “A princess in the tower.”

Greaseball watched him as he turned his head away, hiding his face. “I don’t want to die like this…”

“You won’t,” the diesel said, placing his fingers under Electra’s chin to make him turn his head back. “I’m not gonna let you die, and your components aren’t going to either. But you need to let us help, otherwise, it’s not gonna work.”

Electra only nodded, accepting Greaseball’s words with a sigh. “Fine. Maybe I am a bit cold…”

“Thank you, you idiot,” the diesel gave back and took his blanket to pull it over Electra’s shoulders. It wasn’t going to work on its own, though, so he got up and headed towards the heater in the corner of the shed. He fiddled with it for a few seconds – apparently, it was set to turn off automatically in the morning so it wouldn’t run necessarily while Joule was at work during the day. Greaseball guessed it would turn on again later in the afternoon but since he needed it to work now, he changed the settings. Once he could feel the air getting warmer around the heater, he came back to the berth to sit next to Electra again. 

“You’ll be warm again soon,” he said, not sure what to do now. Electra was now wrapped in the blanket and looking at him almost nervously, with an expectation Greaseball couldn’t read.

“Could you…” the Racer murmured after a few seconds, dropping his gaze, “do what you always did?”

Greaseball frowned. “What exactly do you mean?”

Electra rolled his eyes now. “Don’t be a twat about it, you know perfectly what I mean.”

“Aw,” Greaseball gave him a teasing grin, “do you want a hug?”

“You know what? Go fuck yourself,” Electra growled and moved over to lie on the berth again, snuggled up in his blanket and facing away from the diesel.

Greaseball laughed. “Come on, it’s not so difficult to say it. Repeat after me – _I. Want. A hug.”_

“I. Want. To. Punch you.”

“Rude.”

“I’m not rude. You’re being annoying.”

“Coming from the train who’s annoying 24/7?”

Electra turned his head to him, offended. “I’m not!”

“You are. I’m just returning the favor.” Greaseball now moved closer to him, tugging at the blanket. “Let go, you idiot.”

The Racer only growled something incoherent but let go of the blanket to allow Greaseball to get under it. The diesel then wrapped his arms around Electra's lean frame and pulled him closer. Soon it was warm under the blanket, and Electra’s sensors were able to fight the cooling system again. Greaseball wasn’t saying anything. He was slowly stroking over the smooth surface of Electra’s skinsuit, feeling the gentle purr of the engine underneath. The Racer was quiet as well. Greaseball would give anything for the ability to read his mind and see what was going on inside his head but then Electra suddenly turned over to face him again. “I want to try it.”

Greaseball furrowed his brows. “What do you mean?”

“To kiss you,” Electra said without any sign of shame. “I mean, if I can die at any given moment then I don’t want it to happen while I’m still a complete virgin so I figured–”

“Let me stop you right here,” Greaseball interrupted with a raised finger. “First of all, we’re not letting you die. And second of all, you can’t just throw this information into someone’s face.”

The electric frowned, visibly confused. “Why not?”

“Well, what if the other train doesn’t want to kiss you?”

Electra blinked. He obviously didn’t think about it from that perspective. “Oh.”

“I mean,” Greaseball started, “this needs to work both ways, you know? You need to ask, not just… _take.”_

“And do you?”

“Do I what?”

The electric locomotive bit his full lower lip. “Want to kiss me.”

Greaseball couldn’t help but glance at Electra’s inviting, cherry red lips. He never thought about it openly but knew very well that he did.

Perhaps, this was the start. The start of his fall he sensed that was coming but wasn’t willing to avoid. He was getting closer and closer to the sun and knew the fall was inevitable – and yet, he really wanted to kiss Electra. 

“I do,” he whispered, bringing one of his hands to the Racer’s cheek. But before he could pull him closer and capture his mouth with his own, the doors of the shed swung open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this one took me a loooong while but I was busy with exams and somehow wasn't able to finish this chapter for weeks. But it's finished now! I'm not going to abandon this story but since I probably won't be able to add chapters often, please be patient. Thanks! I hope ya'll doing great!

**Author's Note:**

> Don't BITE me for mistakes, please – English is not my first language and I'm not that good with it. If you find any mistakes or errors, please, say it kindly. I will listen!


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